Doves and Peacocks
A withering garden
Almost as soon as his sixteenth birthday had passed, Aleigh was shown Orpa Mirene at the midsummer palace function, the woman whom Aligon had already decided--in the way kings decided, without saying anything at all--he would become attached to. Their guardians placed them in the lee of a windowed alcove, away from the eyes of the guests, and they had their first conversation in the shadows of vines with drinks in both their hands.
Orpa was quite the eligible woman, a year older than he and the daughter of the noble Mirene family: a queen-in-grooming. There would be nothing surprising about such an attachment: it was the old way, the way of the first monarchs, although no one dared call King Aligon old-fashioned for his decision.
None of these political motives were directly disclosed to Aleigh; he elucidated them gradually himself. His brother said he would find his own way to love her, as all Arcanes did. He left the bracelet on his younger brother’s table, and it was then that Aleigh, only just emerging into adulthood, began to comprehend the ways he was being used by his family.
In November in the year of 489, when summer had passed its peak, he called Orpa to the pagoda in the waning rose light. It was at this, their fifth meeting in person, that he presented Aligon’s golden bracelet to her, waiting for her to grow bright-eyed with amazement before putting forth his offer of an attachment.
“I could think of no other to ask,” he said, as he’d practiced, as years of royal grooming had taught him to.
Orpa leapt at his offer, as she, too, must have been taught to. She appeared all but delighted to be with him, and he hoped that her enthusiasm would affect him to the same feelings.
They spent three days a week together on the grounds and as one who felt responsible for the joy of others, Aleigh saw to it that Orpa enjoyed every minute of the time they shared. She liked to appraise old buildings and to examine their histories, a subject that he found interested him with escalating intensity as his familiarity with them grew. He memorised her every comment about the cornices and the avia, letting her reveal the complexities of the palace’s balustrades.
Between brief outings to the city where they discussed the grandeur of administrative towers, the two met in private parlours where they read and talked at length together. Her wit and memory matched his own, and together they tended their flowerbed of ideas, every thought unclasping like a bud in bloom.
Aleigh knew they matched, as locks matched keys, as skies matched seas, and indeed, three months into their attachment, he felt he had made an excellent and intimate friend.
It was not an uncomfortable arrangement by any means. But not uncomfortable was not enough to convince him of anything.
Orpa was an avid musician, and music was sufficiently intimate of an interest of Aleigh’s that he took it upon himself to watch her chordophony performances, and to shower her with adulation afterwards. He learned she was a performer with the flair of the greats, her bow rousing her audience to cheers before the music had ended. Accompanied by Belan orchestra, she wove tales on the strings, giving sound to stories.
In private, Orpa began to demand more and more of Aleigh. Monetary providence, continuous attention. He bended to her will as if his obligation to do so were written in law.
He would not speak of his discomfort; it was not worth being spoken of. He watched her learn the work of the masters, and uncage them as new creatures onstage. Her talent, and his awe, were his excuses unto himself. He taught himself to believe that this was love.
The second last time Aleigh watched Orpa, he sat in the second row. Orpa Mirene, now known among musical circles as the chordophonist who handled emotion with the dexterity of a puppeteer, took on Heleus’ energetic half-hour epic with a passion none had never seen of her before.
That evening he decided to pay her a personal visit in the backstage room, to congratulate her. Among the low glittering lights, borne upon the thrill of her beautiful playing, he found the forwardness to kiss her.
She returned it, eagerly at first, then wanly, upon which he knew that not all was well. She stepped away. He lifted his gaze to hers, and was alarmed to find tears welling in her eyes.
“I cannot bear this charade any long,” she gasped.
“Charade?” Aleigh had already guessed.
“It was never for you. I never wanted you; I wanted what came with you.” She gripped her chordophone tighter, and glared at the ground. “And now I no longer want it! I have found something I care for more than for you, and the things you own.”
He stared at her for a while, every inch of his body numb. “I, too, would prefer it over myself,” he finally said.
He only moved again when she had left the room.
Finally certain that this would convince Aligon to free him to choose the fate of his attachment, Aleigh disclosed the details of the conversation to his brother.
Even that was a misjudgment. “You would defy the family’s will?” he said. “You shall not visit her until you pledge to abandon this foolish idea.” The next time he attempted to board the carriage, he found himself denied.
Eventually, Aleigh decided to forgo the carriage entirely. He braved heavy rain to cross the complex on foot, appearing at the Mirene family side-house himself.
The butler who answered his call brought the young woman minutes later. She went still at the door, eyes meeting his.
Reaching out, he clasped her hand in his and waited for a reaction. When she gave none, he lifted it between them, as he had several times, and turned it over so her palm faced upward. He revealed the object concealed in his left hand, and lowered the medallion into her hand, now cupped with anticipation, and trembling.
“Thank you for the past year,” he said simply, and then he reentered the downpour, shivering.
Much of that night was spent in a perpetual cycle of attempting to read, abandoning the effort, and feeling a fresh surge of tears well up at the provocation of another wrenching pang.
That was not to be the last of his misery, for as soon as Aligon learned of his betrayal--two days later, from Kala Mirene--he made clear that he was no better than scum on his shoe by pretending not to see nor hear him.
Aleigh could only think, as he lay in bed, heartache prying his eyelids apart, that he deserved it.